Ah, we never went looking to invent it. After the Chinese tanneries in Tangra started closing, our kitchen became the workshop. Gobi manchurian is just cauliflower in our old sweet-and-sour sauce, but with local green chilies and cornflour from the market. The chilli chicken? That was for the men coming home from the leather godowns—something strong-tasting after the smell of hides. We cooked what we had, for the stomachs we had to fill.
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